Fire

well seasoned hardwood
crackles and hisses as it
slowly turns to ash
–
rolling seas
a cigarette cupped
against the wind

clinging to the flames
my mortal sins escape me
carried by the wind
–
absolution
casting bread
upon the water

small talk in their booth
a dinner plate shatters and
she’s back in Iraq
–
turning winds
a yearling doe
prepares to bolt

a fire in the hearth
the snap of the autumn air
echoes in the flames
–
dying coals
fire orchids
in full bloom

tracing my fingers
across the sinuous curves
of your arching back
–
the crescent moon
your lips turn
towards mine

awash in the tide
a ruined galleon lists
her cannons askew
–
prevailing winds
limping home
on torn sails

windows thrown open
sheer curtains gently wafting
in the evening breeze
–
becoming Icarus
flying westward
chasing the sun

a symbol of strength
welcoming travelers that
seek her destruction
–
in the forest
of fallen oaks
a sapling grows

alone in the woods
dry rustling leaves in the wind
the snap of a twig
–
sear grasses
fueling the
inevitable

the light of hope shines
across the vastness of space
from a long dead star
–
a fallen oak
sprouting
shiitakes